Dance Lessons
by CTMfan-13
Summary: Dancing lessons for the Turner family


The knock on his office door isn't what shocks him, it's the visitor that accompanies the knock.

"Dad? Do you have a minute?"

Looking up from his paperwork, Patrick is surprised to find his thirteen year old son looking at him expectantly, waiting for permission to enter.

"Tim? Come in, son." He watches as Timothy shuts the door behind him and then walks over to the chair set aside for patients. "Everything alright?"

"Yea, everything's fine."

"Good. That's good." Patrick looked at him quizzically, trying to ascertain the reason his son is at the surgery after school on a Monday afternoon instead of out with his friends like every other day. "I'm afraid there's no equipment to wash today, Nurse Mount was on duty this morning."

"No, it's um...I just needed a chat."

"With me?" Patrick asked, on the verge of shock. Since he had married Shelagh, Tim usually sought her out for questions and advice, only coming to him if she wasn't available.

"Yea...I can't ask Mum. It's kind of a...a guy problem. Not that it's a problem. It's...about a girl."

Patrick schooled his face, nodding at his son while wishing his wife was there for support. He wasn't quite sure he was ready for this conversation with his son.

"Right. A girl."

Tim took a deep breath and picked at a stray thread on his blazer. "Yea."

Patrick put his pen down and folded his hands together on the desk, giving Tim his full attention.

"So, how can I be of assistance?"

"Well...There's a dance at school next weekend. They're calling it a 'Ladies Choice' dance, so the girl has to ask the boy to go with her. And, well...this girl, Tess Baker, she's asked me to go."

Patrick hadn't heard a question in there, so he wasn't sure exactly how to respond. "Do you want to go? With...?"

"Tess." Tim answered, rolling his eyes at his father's horrible memory. "Yes, I do. And I've already said I would. I...I like her, and I wouldn't want to go with anyone else."

Patrick tried to suppress a smile, knowing that his son wouldn't appreciate it. "Well, sounds to me like you'll have a lovely time. How can I help? Did you want to borrow one of my ties?"

Tim's eyes widened at the thought, but thankfully his father didn't notice. "Um, no thanks." He continued staring at the floor, the desk, anything but his father's eye contact.

"If it's not a tie, what is it?"

"I don't know how to dance." He muttered, barely audible.

"Ah." Patrick understood instantly. Timothy wasn't one to ask for help, very much like his wife in that regard. Patrick had always tried to instill a sense of independence in his son, and now he needed him. "Well, lucky for you Timothy Turner, your old dad is quite the dancer."

Tim rolled his eyes at his father, but decided against a cheeky response seeing as he really did need his help. "Thanks Dad. Um, can we... _not_ tell Mum? She'll get all emotional about it."

"I don't think we can keep it from her altogether, Tim. She'll be terribly upset...but how about we wait until next week?"

"Deal."

Patrick smiled at the teenager, taking a moment to observe the young man he was becoming, but still seeing the young boy too embarrassed to have his mother know he was going to his first dance.

After a few days of practice, only when Shelagh was out of the house, Tim had all the basics down. Standing side by side with his father in the living room, Patrick once again showed him where his feet should move and how to turn.

"What am I supposed to do with my hands?"

"Well, uh...here." Patrick moved toward his son. "She'll put one arm on your shoulder, and hold your other." They fumbled together, both feeling rather awkward at their proximity.

"Dad! Stop leading! I won't know what to do if you keep taking over!"

"I'm sorry, Tim! I don't know how to follow!"

Having arrived home early, Shelagh stood in the doorway to the sitting room watching silently for a few minutes before making her presence known.

"What on earth are the two of you doing?"

Shocked by her sudden appearance, both Turner men jumped apart and turned toward the doorway. "Dance lessons?" Patrick responds.

"I gathered that much, Patrick. Now my next question is why?"

Tim looked sheepishly between his parents before responding to his mother. "There's a dance at school this Saturday and I didn't want to look like a fool. But now Dad won't stop leading and Tess Baker is going to think I'm an idiot who can't dance."

Shelagh looked at her son with a mixture of pride and sympathy. She could feel tears gathering in her eyes as she watched him sit on the sofa, dejectedly. She smiled at him, before walking over and sitting down next to him.

"You're going to a dance, hmm?"

"I was going to tell you tomorrow, Mum. I didn't want you to get all teary-eyed about it. It's no big deal. I may as well not even go now, Tess is going to think I'm a chump."

"Oh, Tim...nobody could think that of you." Shelagh looked up at her husband, their glance to one another conveying a conversation that needn't be spoken. "You know, I may not know a lot about dancing, but I do know how to follow my partner. Unlike your father, apparently." She smirked at her son, nudging his shoulder with her own.

Tim looked up at his dad, who gave him a nod and encouraging smile before he stood up and offered his hand to Shelagh.

"May I have this dance?" He mumbled, barely giving her any eye contact.

Shelagh blushed and tried to hide her amused smile. "I'd be delighted."

Patrick started the record from the beginning while Shelagh showed her son where his hands should go. After a few fumbles, he finally got the hang of it, even giving her a spin just like Patrick had shown him.

"Well done, Tim! I told you I could teach anyone, even you!" Patrick clapped his son on the shoulder as the record came to an end.

"Oh, Patrick. Don't tease him!" Shelagh scolded her husband. "That was lovely, Timothy. Thank you for the dance. I'm sure you and Tess Baker will have a lovely time on Saturday."

"Thanks, Mum." He looked down at his feet before reaching out to hug her and whispering "I owe you one."

Shelagh gave him a quick squeeze, knowing her son wasn't a huge fan of her emotions, then stepped back. "Now, go get me your suit so I can make sure it's all washed and ready to go. And your father can take care of your shoes. And tomorrow, make sure you stop by Mrs. Gee for a corsage. I'll call her in the morning."

Patrick stifled the laugh that was bubbling in his chest as he realized this was the reason why his son didn't want to tell Shelagh about the dance. She had immediately gone into efficient nurse mode and took over.

Saturday night, after dropping Timothy and his date to the community centre, Patrick arrived back at the flat, while his wife finished cleaning the kitchen. He walked over to the record player and put on the first record he could lay his hands on before walking over to the high chair and picking up his daughter.

"May I have this dance, Miss Turner?"

"She's just eaten, Patrick. I don't think now is the best time for this. And anyway, haven't you had enough dancing this week?"

"You hear that, Angela? Your Mummy thinks I don't know what I'm doing. Can you believe that?" He responded in a sing-song voice that made the child in question giggle at him.

"Patrick..."

"You know, Angel. I taught your Mummy how to dance, too. Yes, I did. But she wasn't nearly as good. You're a natural. No, compared to you, Mummy was rubbish."

"Excuse me, Patrick Turner!"

He continued to ignore his wife's gentle pleas, spinning their 8 month old daughter around the sitting room.

"Yes, my Angel. You certainly are quite the lovely dancer. Take after your fath-ugh!"

Shelagh didn't need to turn around from her place in the kitchen to know what had happened. Hearing Angela start to cry, she grabbed two towels from the laundry basket and stepped over to her husband, handing him one and placing the other on her shoulder as she took their daughter from his arms and wiped her mouth and dress where she'd been sick.

"I'm not going to say 'I told you so', Patrick." Turning her attention to her daughter, she continued. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed while Daddy cleans off that jumper of his." With that she was gone, headed down the hall with the baby.

Half an hour later, with Angela asleep in her cot, Shelagh and Patrick sat on the sofa, waiting until Patrick had to leave to pick up Timothy.

"You lied to our child, Patrick Turner." Shelagh whispered, her head leaning on his shoulder.

"Which one?"

"Which lie? Meaning you've told more than one?!" She picked her head up to look him in the eyes.

Patrick chuckled at her expression. "No, darling. Which child?"

"Oh...Angela." She responded, making a mental note to ask what he lied to Timothy about.

"Did I? About what?"

"I wasn't rubbish when it came to dancing. I was just...a slow learner."

"Mmm...you know what works well for slow learners, Mrs. Turner?" His voice took on the husky tone that Shelagh could never resist.

"What's that?"

"Plenty of practice." He whispered in her ear, standing up to pull her from her seated position on the couch and wrapped his arms around her.


End file.
